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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640874">By the Book</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver33650/pseuds/Silver33650'>Silver33650</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fortnite (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Betrayal, Character Study, Double Agents, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death Experiences, References to Depression, Threats of Violence, Trust Issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:49:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver33650/pseuds/Silver33650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a double agent is a hard job, when you're working for the likes of Ghost and Shadow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tarnished Ghosts and Polished Shadows [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>By the Book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brutus bounced between employers the way some people bounce between bars. Always staying long enough to drink his fill, add another new slot on the resume, and long enough that its owners, disgruntled and fearing legal liability, threw him out under dubious circumstances. Hardly surprising given his choice of career, but annoying enough that repeating the event each time started to wear on him. He didn't want to settle down, but some semblance of stability would be nice. </p><p>Take Ghost, one of his first employers. A strange little place hiding amid skyscrapers in a large city. He'd been more paper pusher than skull crusher there, spending some of his hours at college campuses, of all places. It was there that he first met the man with the golden touch, having mistaken him for an art major too lazy to wash his hands after his last project before dressing for the job fair. How very wrong he was, and how dearly he'd paid for it. But Ghost would continue to be a thorn in his side, even as he moved on to other employers, as would the man with the golden touch. </p><p>Picture it: a gleaming white fortress nestled in a cluster of gray mountains, its entrance lit with cauldrons of fire engineered to withstand the rain. The job is easy, just a hit on some scientist for reasons too top secret for the likes of a grunt like Brutus. But as he's taking point and disabling the security system, in waltzes a lean man with an all-too-familiar smirk. Even with how much time has passed, even with his hands in his pockets, Brutus recognizes him all the same. </p><p>But Brutus doesn't get in the first word; Midas does. "You won't find your mark here, I'm afraid," he tells him, in a tone that makes a mockery of regret. "And if you pull that wire, as you're trying to do now, the alarm will alert headquarters, who will undoubtedly gas the entire place, regardless of how many of their own people are inside, once they get a good look at your attire, because any victory against your sort is worth any sacrifice."</p><p>Brutus drops the tangle of wires and holds up his hands, resigned to his fate, but Midas just laughs. "While I appreciate your surrender, I hardly have the means to conduct a proper arrest here," he says. "What I can do is make you a deal and send you on your way. Only you, of course, not any of the other louts you brought with you."</p><p>The details of the deal don't really matter to Brutus as long as he leaves with his life. But they will, before long. </p><hr/><p>He could get out of any bind against any other opponent. Alarms going off? Scramble and regroup. Exits cut off? Make new ones. </p><p>But for as many steps as he could plan ahead, the golden ghost was already there. </p><hr/><p>Picture this now: a ballroom filled with fancy folks. Evening gowns sparkling, shimmering, as they whirl about the dance floor, tempered in their splendor by suits in the usual shades. Below, at least. Up above is a gallery ripe for a heist, and Brutus is at the center of it, taking point yet again. </p><p>At least, until he hears applause from the strange clink of golden-crusted hands. He groans when Midas appears, decked out in a tailed tuxedo in layered monochrome, white on black on white again. The man would be stunning if he weren't such a spoilsport. Brutus finds his plans thwarted again, escorted out of the party while his team is soundly dispatched by white-helmeted goons at Midas' command. Brutus can hear the bullets, even silenced as they are, behind them as the two men walk together. Him shuffling in shame, Midas strolling with satisfaction. </p><p>"Aren't you getting tired of this?" he asks, waving his right hand. His left is holding the gun pointed at Brutus' temple, but Brutus doubts the man will fire. "I'd hoped my terms were clear enough that we'd both be saved this charade each time we meet."</p><p>Brutus doesn't answer, because he is, but he's too proud to show any further weakness. "You'll get tired first," he says, hoping it's an evasive enough answer. </p><p>But Midas picks up on it all the same, with a short laugh that's halfway a scoff. "You'll find I can be a man of infinite patience in pursuit of something valuable enough to pique my interest," he says. They've reached the door now, and Brutus sees his chance, twisting out of his grip to bend over for the knife hidden in his pant leg. But there it is in Midas' hands, twirled between his fingers as it's gilded into uselessness. "Until next time," he says, sliding it into the inner pocket of his tux jacket, "or until you realize I can pay you far more as a true double agent than the half-assed effort you're giving me now."</p><hr/><p>There were other foiled capers, of course. Papers left unstolen, machines left unsabotaged, signatures left unforged. But these were the ones that stuck with him, the ones that shaped his decisions the most. </p><hr/><p>Midas didn't know everything, after all. Even he had limits. </p><p>Picture it again: that gleaming fortress, this time in a fog that even the torches can't dispel. But the white uniforms of Ghost stand out all the same, and this time, Brutus is in charge of them while some new fancy experiment is conducted. He's making the rounds when he sees it: a black figure crawling up the white walls. </p><p>But he doesn't call an alarm. No, instead he watches for which window they pick, then takes the elevator up to that floor and apprehends them in the hallway near the server room. They're wearing a hood, but it's a woman's face he sees when he commands them to turn, with a shock of green hair running down one side. She grins, calls him a tough guy, but he can hear the fear in her voice. She knows what happens to operatives who get caught. </p><p>But he doesn't do it. Instead, he asks for her name. </p><p>"It's Hazard," she says, "and I work for a group called Shadow."</p><hr/><p>So that's how it went, in the last year or so before the loop. And then there were two: Ghost and Shadow. Passed between the two like a hot potato, depending on the day. Both groups had their share of eccentric characters, exemplified by the leaders of the two factions. </p><p>On Shadow's side, the unsettling Chaos Agent, more monster than man, if he was a man at all. Brutus guessed not, from the strange black sludge that seeped from the back of his mask. Chaos Agent was sadistic yet retained a sense of humor clever enough to distract from how dark the punch lines were. He had a tendency to tap his four fingers together, tilting his head at length whenever confronted with a particularly complex puzzle. But he was never stumped, and never explained the reason for anything he wanted done, and, most disconcertingly, never missed a thank you when presented with a completed job. </p><p>It was a stark contrast with Midas, on the side of Ghost, who threw thanks around for minor tasks like fetching coffee or refilling the water cooler, but forgot when Brutus presented him with a case filled with the enemy's plans. Nothing stoked Midas' ego more than victory, when he was able to stage the next phase of a plan. He was similar to Chaos Agent in that way, shutting Brutus out while he worked out the details. But where Chaos Agent would give a simple dismissal, Midas delivered a check, and there were always enough digits in the number in the box to take the edge off Brutus' indignation. </p><p>There was another big difference between the two that kept Brutus entertained. Both Chaos Agent and Midas claimed to have no regard for any one person, no loved ones to get in the way of a plan gone wrong. In Chaos Agent's case, it was the absolute truth; he cared about nothing and no one. But Midas, on the other hand, was a liar, because there was one glaring exception to his lack of concern for his agents' well-being, and it was both his greatest asset and his greatest weakness: a younger sister who provided the brain behind Ghost's most impressive innovations. A prodigy the likes of which the world might never see again. "The engineer," as she was known, kept mostly apart from the rest of the company, churning out designs with shocking efficiency. </p><p>Jules. </p><p>Brutus never met her before the loop. But he knew about her all the same, because he knew Midas, and Midas didn't want Jules to know about anything. Brutus had a copy of her schedule for the sole purpose of avoiding her. He was allowed to talk to anyone, in any department, except for her. All under the pretense of "protecting her."</p><p>So of course, that all changed when she came up with the device. </p><p>Midas was elated, happier than Brutus had ever seen the man before, in those days. Beaming, even with his face covered in bandages. Those very few days before he turned into the hollow shell of a man who would enter the loop. All because of one woman, one decision, one phone call. A call that Brutus got to hear the other side of, while Midas had nightmares imagining it. Chaos Agent played it for him, later, after another decision had been made. And it was so innocuous, so brief, but Brutus knew it would kill Midas to hear it. Kill the last bit of him that still hoped, surviving on some memory of when they were family. When they were both happy. </p><hr/><p>"You'll still play both sides for me, won't you?"</p><p>It sounded like a simple question, but underneath the plaintive tone was a very serious threat. One that Brutus didn't want to see delivered. </p><p>"Of course," he said. </p><p>"Good," Midas said, too curtly to be truly pleased. He slit open an envelope on his desk. "You're dismissed." No gratitude included, just an abrupt spin in his seat to face the window. He didn't even bother to wait for Brutus to leave. Midas slid out the letter inside, read it, staring at it too long for how short it was. He tossed the paper over his shoulder and revealed the other item included: a photograph of Jules, with a familiar symbol on her shirt. </p><p>Midas didn't seem to realize Brutus hadn't left, because he never would have done what he did next had he known someone was in the room. Silently, because Brutus only knew from his reflection in the glass. From only one eye, the other too ruined to produce tears. </p><hr/><p>Midas took Brutus with him to Steamy Stacks, because he needed a show of force, and there was nothing that showed strength like parading around a known double agent. </p><p>Anyone looking on would have thought this was some sort of business transaction, rather than a parley over the fate of the island. On one side: the golden ghost. On the other: the sentient sludge. Exchanging threats with such courtesy, one would think they were old friends. Perhaps they were, and that was yet another thing Brutus didn't know about them. </p><p>He nearly chuckled aloud. These two? They'd sooner slit each other's throats. (Though that likely wouldn't put an end to Chaos Agent.)</p><p>The two men(?) shook hands, though nothing was settled between them save the fact that neither had backed down. Midas' steps bordered on stomps as he left. "He'll put up a good fight," he said. "But we have the advantage."</p><p>Brutus let him think that, because he knew he couldn't convince Midas otherwise. </p><hr/><p>Had Midas not assigned Brutus to the Grotto, he would have chosen it anyway. It suited him. Underground, much the way he'd always been undercover. A maze of rooms that all looked the same, connected by walkways that also looked the same. Most intruders found themselves cornered before they had a chance to slip into a phone booth or a secret passage. </p><p>At least, that's how it was in the early days, though Brutus spent most of his time doing Midas' boring tasks. It was rare that he was able to make it back to the hideout, where he had to endure the company of the other agents. It wasn't that Brutus disliked them, just that they could be... a bit much. Skye, with her boundless energy and insatiable thirst for adventure. TNTina, infatuated with explosions, noise, and general chaos. Meowscles wasn't too bad, but Brutus was more of a dog person. He got along best with Maya, who mostly hid in the armory and let him take shelter there whenever he wanted to avoid karaoke. (Though he couldn't resist giving it a go with Skye, just once.)</p><p>He only spoke to Midas through his comm, and even that was rare, mostly confined to status updates. When Brutus did see the boss, the man was lost in thought, staring at his stacks of papers with his fountain pen tipped toward his scowling face, slouched in some chair or pacing without regard to his surroundings. The other agents considered him antisocial, but Brutus knew the truth. </p><p>"<em>You know what to do</em>?" </p><p>Both of his bosses asked this of him, after the first two weeks. One voice suave and vaguely patrician, a command veiled as a request. The other suspicious in its innocuous tone. Like freshly laid tar in the sun, waiting to stick to anything reckless enough to pass over it. </p><p>"Of course," he told them both, but only one of them got the security plans in their mailbox. </p><hr/><p>"She's there?"</p><p>Midas' voice was desperate, too clipped and taut considering his usual eloquence. Brutus confirmed, and could practically hear Midas relax on the other end of the line. </p><p>Brutus did enjoy the freedom he was given in renovating his base. Shadow didn't have a lot of guidelines, so long as decor was dark, foreboding, and generally oppressive. Brutus enjoyed all those qualities, so construction didn't take long at all. </p><p>From then on, he split his time between the Grotto and the various Shadow safe houses to train henchmen, as well as making a few visits to Steamy Stacks every now and again. It was there that he first laid eyes on Jules in person, huddled with Chaos Agent discussing some blueprints. They were introduced, the handshake brief, Jules reaching up to adjust her goggles from sliding down her face. "Sorry, it keeps coming loose," she explained, sliding out a length of strap away from her scalp, then sitting back down next to Chaos Agent without an ounce of unease. Clearly the girl had nerves of steel. </p><p>Brutus kept an eye on her, less out of duty so much as respect for Midas. He tried to make small talk, to ask her about her hobbies, her interests, her thoughts on Shadow and Ghost. Her answers were distracted, always given while in the midst of some equations or designs or sketches of machines. "Don't you have some henchmen to train?" she asked, dismissive. </p><p>These siblings... both arrogant in their own way. Midas thought he knew everything, and Jules thought she knew better. </p><p>And then there was Chaos Agent, who only knew worst. </p><p><em>What would you get a cat for a gift?</em> he asked Brutus, sliding up next to him in the break room with only a faint rush of flowing water. Water poisoned by pollution with an acidity high enough to melt steel, but liquid all the same. <em>A scratching post, perhaps? Do cats enjoy scratching the limbs of humans, even if they were dismembered?</em></p><p>Brutus didn't flinch, but a chill went down his spine all the same. "Maybe just stick to a fishing rod."</p><p>Chaos Agent tilted his head, then nodded. <em>Boring, but practical. You are so wise, Brutus.</em> And then he was gone, and Brutus breathed easily again. </p><hr/><p>"You're certain she's not in any danger?"</p><p>"Yes." And he did believe that, but... Brutus prepared himself to deliver the lie of the century. "He's chaotic, not cruel."</p><p>"Both are synonyms for evil, in my view. But I trust you."</p><p><em>Do you,</em> Brutus longed to ask. <em>Do you really?</em></p><p>
  <em>And do I even think that you should?</em>
</p><hr/><p>Brutus only saw the countdown because Midas called him back to the Agency. There'd been something in the man's voice that convinced Brutus to take the risk and return there, to enter the mostly empty hideout and take the elevator down to the lowest level, where Midas' office was lit by the pulse of a strange orb. </p><p>Brutus had questions, but left them all unasked. Instead, he let Midas begin, and the man took his time, staring at the device for a long while before turning to face him. </p><p>"There are folders scattered around the island. If the plan doesn't succeed... find those, read them. Don't disappoint me."</p><p>"Have I ever?"</p><p>Midas laughed, harder than Brutus expected, and then they were both laughing, without humor. "One last thing." His shoulders tensed, and he looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact. "Take care of Jules for me."</p><p>Brutus shifted his feet. "You've already asked me to do that," he said, trying to keep his tone light. </p><p>Midas rolled his shoulders and relaxed. His hands seemed to glow in the flickering light. There was the hint of a smile in his voice when he replied, though his face was as grim as ever. "I know."</p><hr/><p>"You knew," Brutus said. </p><p>The light in Steamy Stacks was distorted, shifting, all because of the wall of water waiting offshore. It was visible from everywhere on the island, spurring its residents to flee to higher ground. Before long, the streets would be jammed with cars heading for the southeast, the highest part of the island, in hopes that they could escape the coming flood. </p><p><em>Of course I knew,</em> Chaos Agent said, rolling his- <em>its</em>- head in a lazy circle, the bottom quarter of its lit eyes extinguished for a moment to give the appearance of rolling its eyes. For a split second, Brutus swore they glowed purple instead of white as they returned to full brightness. <em>And you would've known too, had any of you bothered to connect the dots. But it's better for me that nobody did, because now we'll have an even better playground for act two. Don't you agree?</em></p><p>And Brutus nodded, because that was the only thing he could do. </p><hr/><p>The flood wall held longer than he expected, but it was plain that it wouldn't last forever. He still waited till the last minute to retreat to Retail Row, where Ghost Flowers had already been overtaken by Shadow Lamps. Nothing he could do about that, but that wasn't the only place they'd left intel. Sitting on a picnic bench on the west side of town was a blue Ghost folder, untouched. He sat down and opened it. There was only a single page inside, on plain white paper, likely to avoid being detected. </p><p>
  <em>The plan is a failure. Don't go looking for me. You know what to do.</em>
</p><p>And Brutus did, but that didn't mean he had to like it. </p><hr/><p>In the end, Jules didn't require much help. The Authority rose mostly thanks to her direction, with very little support from him. This gave him enough time to pursue other matters. Things that he'd all but been ordered not to do, but would do anyway, because if there was ever a time to not play by the book, it was now. </p><p>He cast his line in the form of a salvaging request: items from the Agency, or anything bearing Ghost's emblem. Nobody would bite. Not until one woman appeared with several boats' worth of boxes, brandishing the objects without a care for who might see her haul. She looked so at ease on the water that one would think she'd spent her whole life there. Perhaps she had. </p><p>Brutus didn't like the idea of pinning his hopes on a random girl. But she was brave, and strong, and hated Shadow. Maybe that was enough. </p><p>So he gave Ocean his helmet, and all the remaining henchmen he could find, and his hope. She painted the helmet in bold colors and wore it with a fierceness that he couldn't help but feel pride for. He gave her a burst assault rifle, specially modified, and told her not to give up. "The fight's not over until I say so," she pledged, and he felt confident leaving the remnants of Ghost in her care. </p><p>And Brutus went back to Shadow and did what he always did: trained the henchmen how to throw knives, to land a proper punch, to find a firearm in any article of clothing. Just like the old days. But one thing was different: now, instead of dreading the sight of the man with the golden touch, he fervently wished for it. And every day, he was disappointed. </p><p>Until one day, when he was not. </p>
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